Oxygen is the best thing ever.

What was seemingly a harmless cold turned out to be one of the nastiest respiratory viruses to plague the household. Almost a week to the day after Bob got sick, I got hit. It started off innocently enough, but by Christmas Day, I was curled up in the corner leaking essential fluids from my throbbing head while the rest of the family pretended death wasn't creeping their way across the room:

A few days after that, and things got worse as the bug hit my chest. Breathing became the most important activity. I had to bid adieu to Jillian and attempted "gentle" workouts on the bike, but when breathing was too difficult, workouts were shelved altogether. I expelled copious amounts of unspeakable things from my lungs as I sat around feeling sorry for myself, watching five seasons of The Office on streaming Netflix and playing Bejeweled Blitz on Facebook as the dog whimpered at my feet over the lack of attention. Did I feed her? I can't remember.

Sleep was difficult due to the coughing fits. Prescription cough medicine helped, but it turned me into a dopey night zombie and plugged me up.

There were no shameless bouts of bingeing and celebration. My biggest treats over the two-week holiday marathon were a half dozen or so amaretti cookies, a glass of eggnog, Lemonheads and two pots of home made chicken soup (per Alton Brown's recipe, highly recommended). And some cheese. New Year's was dry...the first dry New Year's since '88, I think.

Last week, I started getting better and returned to the tough-love arms of Jillian, but I had to start back at Level 1. That was rough and I went back to the bike.

This week, I'm feeling near-normal and the coughing has subsided. Breathing capacity is at about 90%. So, yay.

The scale stayed steady at 143 during Christmas and New Years, then up to 147 (!) late last week, then down to 144.6 today. I can't really put much stock in those numbers, though, given the circumstances. Even if I were at a loss, it's not like a real victory anyway. The "official" weigh-ins will resume next week, assuming I successfully dodge future plague bullets.

On the plus side, Bob got me some sweet resistance bands for Christmas, which I have been using and LOVING. There is an element of danger to using them. I can't help but think one of the plastic clasps will break, causing a band to whip across my face and take out an eye. And a tooth or two. So, it makes my workouts that much more badass. Rawrrrr!

I've been lurking and reading many blogs, but haven't the time or energy to catch up in one fell swoop. I am energized by so many bloggers' new-found commitment to a fit and healthy New Year, as well as others' continued success (and reasonable bitchiness!), and look forward to following their progress.

And the new season of Biggest Loser has started already. Dammit.